


Benediction

by Edge_of_Clairvoyance



Series: The Silver Collar [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, Abused Dean Winchester, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Brotherly Affection, Brotherly Love, Child Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gen, Heavy Angst, Kid Adam Milligan, POV Dean Winchester, Physical Abuse, Pre-Series, Protective Dean Winchester, Religious Fanaticism, Teen Dean Winchester, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 11:49:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19393522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edge_of_Clairvoyance/pseuds/Edge_of_Clairvoyance
Summary: Time stamp for The Silver Collar series: an evening in Dean's life before being collared.





	Benediction

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place over a year before Dean had been collared. It _**spoils the heck**_ out of ["Ends of the Earth, Edge of Heaven"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16066151), so be sure to read the main work first to fully enjoy both stories!
> 
>  **Warning** for physical, emotional and psychological abuse, as well as heavy angst. Keep safe, and read at your own discretion.
> 
> Thank you to my beautiful, beautiful betas, who suffered the angst just for you guys - [ToscaRossetti](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToscaRossetti/pseuds/ToscaRossetti), [CrazedPanda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazedPanda) and [alexofthegarden](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexofthegarden/pseuds/alexofthegarden).

"Chasten thy son, and he shall give thee rest, and shall give delight unto thy soul."

The belt whipped down again on his back, and Dean winced, hands grabbing onto the chair.

"Withhold not correction from the child; for though thou beat him with the rod, he will not die. Thou beatest him with the rod, and wilt deliver his soul from the nether-world."

Dean kept his mouth tightly shut, trying not to make a sound as the belt landed on the small of his back, then a little lower, working its way down his butt and onto the backs of his thighs.

"Foolishness is bound up in the heart of a child; but the rod of correction shall drive it far from him."

His thin shirt and pajama pants did nothing to lessen the sting of the leather, but luckily his father stopped.

Dean stayed in position, holding the back of the chair. His breathing sounded too loud in his own ears, although it couldn't have been as loud as the belt, or Dad's reprimands. He just hoped Adam wasn't hearing it through the closed door of the bedroom.

"Turn around," Dad said.

Dean snuffled and wiped an arm over his face before doing as he was told. Dad was putting the belt away; it didn't always mean the punishment was over, but it was a good sign.

Dad's expression wasn't a good sign, though. His eyes were a pair of blue icicles drilling into Dean's.

"You should be more repentant about the way you behaved this afternoon," Dad said.

"I am, I'm sorry, sir," Dean did his best to look as chastened as he could, but he didn't know how well he managed it. After all, he wasn't _really_ sorry he paid more attention to Adam than to the damned bow he was supposed to be practicing with. Dad saw nothing wrong with letting a three-year-old child play by himself in a playground filled with rusty equipment almost sixty feet away from where they were training at the time, but there was no use arguing about it, least of all now. Dean just wanted the beating to be over so he could go check on his brother.

Dad held Dean's chin and tilted his face up a little. "The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and a contrite heart, O God, thou wilt not despise." Dad studied him for a minute longer and sighed. "Still defiant. Your spirit isn't broken yet and your heart isn't contrite." His hand fell away. "Get the birch."

_Shit, shit, shit_

Dean returned the chair to its place by the dining table and opened one of the overhead storage compartments to retrieve the birch. He hated the damned thing almost as much as he hated being caned with the riding crop.

Dean placed the bundle of thin, bare twigs in his father's waiting hand and took off his shirt. He knelt by the couch, leaned his elbows on it and bowed his head. From the corner of his eye he could see Dad coming to stand beside him.

"What direction of the Lord didn't you observe, Dean?" Dad asked.

Dean took a breath and tried to keep his voice steady. "Children, obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right."

"A wise son heeds his father's instruction. You want to be a wise son, don't you?"

"Yes, sir," he did, he wanted to be good, righteous, but he was sinful. His father tried to repair his weaknesses, but Dean was too stupid and stubborn to know better.

"The rod and reproof give wisdom," Dad said, almost kindly. Somehow, it was scarier than before, in the empty park, when the old man had slapped him and then used the bow to beat him.

The birch whistled through the air and landed on the back of Dean's neck. Dean hissed and his fingers tried to clutch at the upholstery. The birch hit again, and again, the thin branches like claws scratching into his flesh. It moved down to the tops of his shoulders, up again, then down. Dean had to bring one hand to his mouth to stifle his whimpers; sometimes, the sound made Dad angrier.

"He, that being often reproved hardeneth his neck, shall suddenly be broken," Dad said, and with a final lash the birch went still on the base of Dean's neck. Dean didn't dare to move.

A long moment passed, and then the birch lifted away.

"No dinner tonight. Go to bed. When you say your prayers, make sure to beg the good Lord to forgive the insolence and disobedience you show your father."

"Yes, sir," Dean scrambled to his feet as fast as he could, grabbed his shirt and fled into the bathroom.

He was only able to breathe once the door closed behind his back. He leaned on the edge of the sink, body shaking uncontrollably, and swallowed air in sharp, hitching gasps. It was relief as much as pain and fear; he could have gotten a hell of a lot worse. By the number of verses Dad was quoting, Dean was sure the old man would strip the skin off his back. Getting away with a relatively-reasonable whipping and no dinner was a small miracle.

He washed his face, brushed his teeth and took a long drink of water from the faucet to settle his growling stomach. Then he cracked open the door and listened. There was a rustle of paper coming from the main room of the RV – Dad was probably reading his Bible. Dean slipped out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, and slid the door closed.

Adam was curled on Dean's bunk, facing the wall. When they returned to living in the RV after Adam's mother died, they put a crib for him in the bedroom. But soon enough they took it out – Adam preferred sleeping with Dean in his bunk, and Dad didn't mind since Adam slept better and didn't wake him up at night. Dean didn't even think about asking Dad to install another bunk for Adam; there was nothing better than having his little brother in his arms at the end of a long, hard day.

He watched Adam for a minute in the gloomy light. He doubted that the kid was already asleep, but he would stay lying down with his eyes closed because Dean had told him to go to bed, and Adam was such a good little boy.

Sure enough, as soon as Dean climbed into the bunk to lie beside his brother, Adam turned over to face him, discarding the ragged teddy bear he had been holding. His big blue eyes seemed to glisten as he stared at Dean.

"Dee, you hurt a lot?" He whispered.

Dean's chest clenched at the agony in the child's voice. "No," he whispered back, trying his best to smile and failing. "No, I'm fine, Adam."

Adam studied him, much like Dad had a short while ago. Then he reached with his little hand to touch Dean's face. "You hurt," he said with trembling lips.

Dean wrapped his arms around his brother and cradled him to his body, and Adam curled into him. "It's okay, kiddo. Don't worry. It doesn't hurt anymore. I'm fine, see? It doesn't hurt."

Adam clung to him, sniffling, and Dean could feel how he shook his head into Dean's chest.

"I'm really fine. You don't believe me?"

It evoked another head-shake from Adam, and Dean grinned.

"Well now, that's not nice, not believing your big brother. Is it?"

Adam was still for a moment, then mumbled, "Is not nice." It made Dean almost chuckle, but then Adam went on, "Daddy maked you hurt."

Dean ran his fingers through Adam's soft hair. "You know that bad boys get punished. I was a bad boy, that's all."

Adam pulled back to look into Dean's face. His expression was serious, mature. "You a good boy, Dee. Bestest good boy."

Dean wanted to smile at him, but he couldn't; his throat felt choked and his eyes prickled. Just a few words uttered in Adam's sweet voice seemed to drive away years' worth of his father telling him he was inadequate, corrupt, _flawed_.

He hugged his brother close and leaned his head against Adam's. "Thank you, kiddo," he whispered.

Adam shifted a little and settled more comfortably in Dean's arms. "Sing me a song?"

It was a risk. Dad expected them to be asleep; Dean would have hell to pay if he was caught disobeying. But he couldn't resist Adam's hopeful tone.

He listened for a moment but couldn't hear any indication of Dad starting to get ready for bed. "One song, okay?"

" 'Kay."

Dean fetched the teddy bear for Adam, pulled the covers up over both of them and brought his mouth closer to Adam's ear. "If the sun refused to shine, I would still be loving you," he started quietly. "When mountains crumble to the sea, there will still be you and me."

Adam's tiny fist grabbed his shirt, and Dean moved a hand up to cup the back of the child's head.

"Kind Adam, I give you my all. Kind Adam, nothing more," that alteration always made the kid giggle, and Dean smiled at the stifled sound. "Little drops of rain whisper of the pain, tears of love lost in the days gone by."

He closed his eyes. There was nothing now, nothing beside Adam and him, together in a secret little place of their own.

"My love is strong, with you there is no wrong. Together we shall go until we die."

Adam's breathing against Dean's neck was peaceful and slow. He had probably drifted to sleep, or was very close to it, but Dean kept singing, very softly.

"And so today my world, it smiles, your hand in mine, we walk the miles. Thanks to you it will be done, for you to me are the only one."

It didn't matter that he was bad, that he was stupid, that he couldn't do anything right. Because he could do this, take care of his baby brother.

"Happiness, no more be sad. Happiness, I'm glad."

It was more important than hunting, than praying, than anything. He could take whatever Dad dished out, whatever all the rest of the world threw at him, as long as he had Adam.

"If the sun refused to shine, I would still be loving you. When mountains crumble to the sea, there will still be you and me."

Dean hummed the last notes, then let them die away. Adam was fast asleep. Dean traced the back of Adam's neck idly with the tips of his fingers and felt the calm way his chest rose and fell.

He still had his prayers to say. He should probably get into a proper position on his knees, but he didn't want to let go of Adam. He could just add this to the growing list of transgressions he would be whipped for at the last Sunday of the month.

"Dear Lord, thank you for your infinite grace and protection. Please forgive my shortcomings and help me accept guidance so I may better serve you. Please aid my father as he does your work of defending the innocent from unholy creatures. Please bless Adam so he grows healthy and strong in your love. In Jesus's name, Amen."

The wind seemed to pick up outside the RV. Its howling made Dean think of werewolves, of rugarus, of ghouls, of all the other monsters. Adam felt so tiny and fragile compared to all the evil lurking in the dark, and Dean hugged him as tight as he could without waking him up.

"Please," he was whispering so quietly it was barely audible to his own ears. His eyes were prickling again. "Please keep him safe. I don't care what happens to me, but please keep him safe."

The howl of the wind died down. The silvery light of the moon that seeped through the shades became brighter; the clouds must have been clearing some. Dean lay still, his fingers caressing Adam's hair. He had started to doze off, and as he did, he was vaguely aware he had resumed humming.

"If the sun refused to shine, I would still be loving you. When mountains crumble to the sea, there will still be you and me."

**Author's Note:**

> The song Dean sings is Led Zeppelin's ["Thank You"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u1z4vkPWkLQ).
> 
> Like my works? Want to subscribe and get updates on new stories? Make sure you subscribe to the **user** and not the specific work!


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